


Home for the Holidays

by ScopesMonkey



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Family, Fluff, Holidays, Slash if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScopesMonkey/pseuds/ScopesMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The arrival of a woman at Baker Street sparks some jealousy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hedgewilde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgewilde/gifts).



> Written for a fic exchange with writinginmargins. The prompt lines were:
> 
> "He watched as red light shifted across John's face, illuminating sleep-worn creases and softness around his jawline."
> 
> "A second barrage of unsolicited criticism provoked the woman in question."
> 
> "'Honestly, Sherlock,' John sighed as he pulled back the duvet, 'this has gone on long enough.'"
> 
> This is the result. Enjoy!

“John.”

Sherlock watched as red light shifted across John's face, illuminating sleep-worn creases and softness around his jaw line.  The Christmas tree had been left plugged in, casting the room in a warm, seasonal glow that countered the bitter, wind-scoured cold outside.

“John,” Sherlock repeated, folding his arms over his chest at the tedious necessity of it all.  An expression of distaste wavered on the doctor’s features as consciousness nudged his awareness.  He blinked himself awake, a tired hum reverberating in his chest; the lines and shadows of his expression faded to green as the lights cycled slowly between colours.

“Sherlock,” John murmured.  “You’re home late.”

The comment drew a disgusted noise and a roll of the eyes – the time of his return scarcely mattered.  Cases did _not_ keep to a particular schedule, so there was no reason he would do.  The entire affair might have been cleared up earlier, had John consented to actually accompany him instead of fulfilling his duties at the surgery.

The detective could tolerate the shirking of the occasional case (John had endeavoured to explain to him on several occasions that he needed the money for tiresome reasons such as paying rent and buying groceries – had he not turned down Mycroft’s initial offer of payment for spying, perhaps this would not have been an issue), but now John had brought a woman into Sherlock’s home.

“Why is _she_ here?” he demanded.  The confusion that flickered across John’s features served only to fuel Sherlock’s impatience; establishing a female presence had been simple enough based on the woman’s coat and boots stowed neatly near door.

A sigh as John dragged a hand over his face; Sherlock’s gaze followed the movement out of habit.

“Because she’s my sister,” John replied.

“And what of it?” Sherlock huffed.

“And it’s Christmas.”

“Inaccurate,” Sherlock shot back.  “It’s currently the twenty-fourth of December, which it has been for a mere twenty-seven minutes, which puts Christmas at nearly one full day away.”

“She came down a day early,” John said.  “What’s the big deal?”

“I have work, John!”

“In the middle of the night?  Yes, I know,” John replied wearily.

“During the _day_ ,” Sherlock hissed.  “Later today – although I strongly suspect you’d call it tomorrow.  How am I to accomplish anything with this distraction?”

“Oh, Harry’s a distraction, is she?” John replied, a slight but utterly inappropriate smile tugging at the edges of his lips and lighting his blue eyes.

“I have an experiment that requires a significant amount of focus, John.  I can’t concentrate with the two of you chattering on about the inconsequential trivialities of your lives!”

“Inconsequential trivialities?” John asked, raising his eyebrows.  “You need some sleep.”

“Spare me the doctor’s opinion – I could just as easily point out that by sleeping on the couch, you’re denying yourself the necessary rest you require and setting yourself up for shoulder pain.  You might have avoided that if Harry found somewhere else to stay and hadn’t commandeered your bed,” he added with a sniff.

“She’s not going to be here during the day tomorr– later today,” John sighed.  “She came down early to visit some friends she hasn’t seen since she moved to Birmingham.  Whatever experiment you’ve got going on won’t be interrupted.  I promise.”

“I admire your ability to make promises on someone else’s behalf.”

“I doubt Harry’s devised some dastardly plan to trick me into thinking she’s visiting friends while she fully intends to stay here.”

“Good point,” Sherlock conceded.  “It’s not in your genetic repertoire to be so convincingly deceptive.”

“Thanks,” John said, brow furrowing slightly with those familiar – and worryingly endearing – twin lines.  “I think.  Never mind, that probably was probably criticism, but I don’t really have an issue with being told I’m not a bastard.”  The slight smile was back, and Sherlock huffed.

“You clearly have misplaced guilt over her alcoholism that you need to alleviate by allowing her to come here in order to ensure she hasn’t returned to her old habits.”  John eyes crinkled slightly with puzzlement as he tried to keep up with the string of words; Sherlock gave his attempts no quarter.  “Having her here reassures you but also allows you to keep an eye on her; you’re happy to see her visit old friends but you’ve checked into which ones they are.”  A shot in the dark, but the slight widening of John’s eyes and the barest twitch of his lips told Sherlock he’d hit the mark.

“No chance they’ll tempt her with alcohol – in fact, they’ll go out of their way to be supportive and accommodating.  Precisely what she needs and what you want, because you don’t trust her – yet – to say no and stick with it if provided the opportunity.  Given the seasonal abundance of available alcohol at parties, keeping an eye on Harry assuages any fears you have, but also allows you to watch her without her _feeling_ watched.  It appears I was wrong, there _is_ some genetic tendency toward deception.  Which is interesting,  because it’s on the part of the non-alcoholic sibling, although, I should point out, that Harry’s absence tomorrow frees you up for any possible cases, so the adrenaline junkie doesn’t have to give up his fix.”

John’s features had the familiar pinched look – resentment that Sherlock had hit such a personal mark, disliking the reality of it.  He drew a breath to retort, but the second barrage of unsolicited criticism had provoked the woman in question.  The creak of footsteps on the stairs made John sigh and Sherlock scowl. 

“Sorry, Harry,” John said as his sister paused on the last step, arms folded over her stomach to retain warmth, russet hair escaping its loose braid.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Sherlock’s just got in,” John replied, unable to hide a yawn.  “And he was just going to bed, _wasn’t he?_ ”  The question was delivered in a tone that suggested it was the only viable option, so Sherlock ignored it.

“Hardly,” he said.  “John didn’t think to warn me that you were coming early.”

“I didn’t know I required warning,” Harry commented, raising her eyebrows.

“You don’t,” John assured her.

“On the contrary, I need to know when my home is going to be invaded.  You can’t just spring this on me,” he added, directing the last statement squarely at John.

“Honestly, Sherlock,” the doctor sighed as he pulled back the duvet, “this has gone on long enough.  Go to bed.  You won’t care so much in the morning.  Sorry, Harry, we’ll be quiet.  _Both_ of us,” he added with a pointed look.

“Good night,” Harry said with a shake of her head, a small smile playing infuriatingly on her lips.  Sherlock opted for stony silence; John waited patiently, hands clasped loosely between his knees, until there was the faint click of a door from the top of the stairs.

“Want to tell me what this is really about?” the doctor asked, raising his eyebrows.  “And don’t tell me it’s the experiment; you could easily work around Harry if she were here – probably with the same amount of regard for her personal safety as you have for mine.”

“I take every necessary precaution,” Sherlock sniffed.

“Sure you do,” John said, a faint chuckle undermining his words.  “Look, it’s not as though I invited Mycroft.”

“Lucky for you,” Sherlock shot back.  “I imagine finding a new place to live on Christmas day would be difficult.”

John chuckled again, shaking his head.  The duvet next to him was smoothed down as an invitation to sit; Sherlock planted himself on the coffee table instead, knees and hands well into John’s personal space, but the doctor didn’t shift or move.

“I doubt Mycroft would have come anyway,” John said.  “And there’s no sense in ruining the holiday for both of us.”

“Oh, I see.  It’s perfectly acceptable to ruin _mine_.”

“Your holiday isn’t ruined, Sherlock,” John sighed, but there was a light in his blue eyes that belied the beleaguered tone of his voice.  “I told you Harry was coming, and I know you didn’t forget that.”  He paused, lips pursed, the pads of his thumbs brushing against each other.

“You’re right about wanting to keep an eye on her and checking up on her friends.  That’s true.  But I also just wanted her to come early so I could spend time with her.  She’s my sister, and Christmas is a family time.”

Sherlock stiffened slightly, drawing a breath to make a cutting observation when there was the sudden warmth of a hand around his, the gentle squeeze only accenting the firmness and surety of the grip.

“At least it is for me.  I can hardly imagine Mycroft making the holidays relaxing or enjoyable.”  He paused, blue eyes reflecting the pinpoints of light from the tree, somehow making his expression more serious.  “Look, Sherlock, it may be small – and it’s hardly normal – but with you and Harry here, I get to spend my Christmas with my family.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written in exchange for [the great advantage of being alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1046434) by [writinginmargins](http://archiveofourown.org/users/writinginmargins/pseuds/writinginmargins) which is a truly awesome little fic I encourage you all to read!


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